


the devil (didn't) go down on lyfrassir

by Alienea, pleasekalemenow



Series: The Inherent Romanticism of Dragons [21]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Fantasy AU Lyf continues to have a bad time, Implied past dubcon, Other, mechs fantasy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alienea/pseuds/Alienea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasekalemenow/pseuds/pleasekalemenow
Summary: Not all late-night conversations with your not-devil go over smoothly.
Series: The Inherent Romanticism of Dragons [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832185
Comments: 5
Kudos: 88





	the devil (didn't) go down on lyfrassir

Nyarlathotep has been standing (hovering? Sitting-hovering? The terms probably aren’t important) guard for Lyfrassir while they’ve been travelling to avenge their love. It’s a fairly common story, and Nyarl knows how this sort of thing ends. The fact that ce’s chosen to take advantage of the story, this time, and pick up the pieces afterwards... well, there’s a reason that she’s guarding Lyfrassir while they fail to sleep. Can’t make a friend if they die of wolves or bandits in the night.

Lyfrassir, for their part, is fucking miserable. Of course they are. Before they had Marius, they told themself they had Poetry, that she was a reason for them to keep going, but she doesn’t even like them, and if they die their money and modest estate will just go to her instead. She’ll be better off, technically. No, once they had Marius, they finally knew what it was to have something, some _ one _ to live for, and once they lost that they knew there was no way to go back to pretending. So they’re just. Sitting. They stared at the stars for a while, but those are cold and their light is mocking, as if they know what Lyf wrote in their last words to their beloved and are trying to ridicule them with every glint of their distant light. So they look at their...ve keeps insisting they not call nym a devil, says that’s “inaccurate” and “a hasty assumption” and “honestly sort of rude,” but Lyf doesn’t know what else to call zir. Nyarl called herself a god, but as dissatisfied as they are with their own God right now, they aren’t sure they’re ready to call xem that just yet. Maybe just. Void. They’re looking at their Void. And just. Thinking things.

Humans need sleep, Nyarl is fairly certain. Even infusions of eldritch power can really only get you so far, and Lyfrassir hasn’t even had that for a while. But they haven’t been sleeping. If only there was a manual on what humans needed, but they all need different things in different amounts and it was honestly entirely too confusing to keep track of. Presumably Lyfrassir knew what they needed, though? So Nyarl makes a decision, and leans over Lyfrassir.

“Are you going to sleep?” There. Direct and to the point.

“I can’t.”

“... Can I help?”

Lyf bites their lip, pondering. Well. Even if Nyarl isn’t a devil, he inspired the concept, so ze claims. So. “Use my body until I can’t stay conscious anymore.”

Nyarl cannot actually blink, having not manifested eyes, but the sensation very much comes across, and xe settles down to sit next to Lyf.

“I was thinking I could play the violin again, actually. I can be quite soothing, like that.” Nyarl hesitates. “I... am not comfortable with the implications of what you just said, either. Do you want to get revenge on the people that did that, as well? I can expand our deal to include that.”

Lyf looks at Nyarl in blatant confusion. “...Do you not. Fuck?”

“Oh, no, I do- I have, but, uh. I’m not going to fuck you, especially because you phrased it like that, but mostly because you are not in any sort of mindset for sex.” Nyarl thinks about how to explain. “I... don’t fuck people who can’t give enthusastic and somewhat informed consent, and frankly, you may know what I am, but that was not the phrasing of someone who wants to have sex. You didn’t even mention your own pleasure!” Nyarl is indignant about that. “There’s just a lot wrong with the sentence ‘use my body until I can’t stay conscious anymore’ and anyone who’s done that to you I would be quite happy to kill.”

Well there are just a whole lot of things about that which Lyf has no idea what to do with. “I’m asking you to do it. What about that seems nonconsensual to you?”

“I do not know where to start with this.” Nyarl pinches where the bridge of a nose would be. “There’s a lot. Being resigned to something and saying yes because of that isn’t- there’s a difference between coerced consent and consent, and then a bigger difference between those and enthusiastic consent- look, is there a song that’s soothing, for you? I can play it.”

There used to be quite a few, but Lyf sang them all to Marius, and so now they just. Remind them of him. They go back to looking at the stars in silence. Sleep isn’t that important.

Nyarl sighs.

“Lyfrassir. I can stimulate your brain to start producing something that will make you go to sleep, and I would rather do that than- take my pleasure from your body. Would you let me do that, and I can try a few songs as you fall asleep?”

Lyf feels deeply uncomfortable for reasons they can’t really identify, and they shrug, then nod.

Nyarl can identify that but isn’t going to make Lyfrassir get into a discussion of how ne would be happy to kill all the courtiers because of what they’ve done, so instead ve gently reaches into Lyf’s brain and starts it producing melatonin and going through the motions of sleep and begins to play, soft and eerie songs that Lyfrassir hasn’t heard before and is unlikely to hear again except from Nyarlathotep. They do eventually fall asleep, like this, and they don’t know whether to hope their dreams are empty or full of Marius.


End file.
